


Life on the Edge

by RedTeamShark



Series: Los Santos is No Place for the Innocent [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Handjobs on Motorcycles, Implied/Reference Self Mutilation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Los Santos, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I like to live dangerously,” Gavin commented with a smirk as he squeezed the motorcycle’s accelerator. Ray’s arms were secure around his waist, tightening just slightly at the sudden, rapid increase in speed. He could just barely hear a mutter of agreement from the Puerto Rican behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life on the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to http://bunceglackbooshglaowbip.tumblr.com

Los Santos was definitely a better place to live than Liberty City. The beach was a plus, the laid-back attitude of the San Andreas tri-city area was a plus, and the weather was a definite plus.

On days when they didn’t have to work, Gavin and Ray would often find themselves sprinting across the sand from their highrise apartment, shedding shirts and shoes on the way into the water, yelling like kids as they dove into the waves and splashed each other. They’d lie on beach towels, soaking in the southern sun that shone down on them so brightly, burning away the memories of Liberty City (or so they told themselves, carefully avoiding looking at each other’s scars and burns and hastily-removed tattoos). Los Santos had the sun, a force of nature that they’d almost forgotten in the dirty, dingy, dull grayscale of Liberty City; here the sun was a real thing shining bright in the skies, not some distant question barely seen between high-rises.

Not only that, but the weather was amazing. It was rarely below 70 by ten in the morning, rarely above 90 even in the hottest part of midafternoon. Even working, running illegal drugs around the city for Geoff, collecting payment from slackers for Gus, or convincing some business rivals to leave town at Burnie’s behest, they had fun. It was a no-pressure situation, more often than not.

The first thing Gavin had done when he’d realized how nice the weather was was to trade in his beat-up old car for a motorcycle, bringing it by Matt’s body shop and paying an arm and a leg to get it customized, working twice as hard as he ever had in his life to get the bike paid off fully and honestly (as honestly as robbing gas stations and repossessing cars without first serving a notice was, anyways). Ray had helped out, smiling and reminding his sandy-haired friend that he owed him every step of the way, and soon the bike was Gavin’s, free and clear.

It wasn’t a beast, didn’t roar as it accelerated down the highway, didn’t whine as it zipped between lanes downtown. It purred, rode comfortably with enough room for Ray on the back and a gun at his hip, slid easily between vehicles and down narrow alleys, out of sight of the cops or rival gangs that might want to start trouble. The color scheme was a bit jarring, bright splashes of blue and yellow that seemed obnoxious to anyone who didn’t understand the never ending gray that life in Liberty City had been. The bike was Los Santos and Gavin loved it just as much as the city itself, loved everything it represented about his change in life.

He was still living a life on the paper thin edge, still looking over his shoulder for cops and crooks and not always sure that he was doing the right thing (but as long as he got paid he was willing to do it, he could fight with his conscience later). And Ray was still right beside him, covering his back as they went in with guns blazing, or pistol-whipping a motherfucker who dared to talk back. Ray was still there, playfully wrestling with him in the big living room of their mostly-empty apartment with the sunset painting the walls red, or linking their pinkies together as they walked down the pier sipping milkshakes. Ray was still right behind him on the bike, arms wrapped tight around Gavin’s waist, lips on his neck seconds before he’d key the engine, the entire machine trembling to life beneath them, pulling onto city streets from the garage and ready to eat miles of road and earn them money.

–

“Why don’t you ever wear a helmet, Gav?” Ray questioned, pulling his own powder blue helmet on (it was to protect his virginity, he claimed) and securing it under his chin as Gavin finished loading their current delivery into the bike’s saddlebags.

Gavin looked over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow and shrugging. He stood, swinging one leg over the bike and straddling it for a moment, holding it steady as Ray climbed on behind him. Once the younger man was secure he settled onto the seat, starting the bike and pulling from the parking spot, easing his way out of the garage.

On the streets, he rolled up to a stop light, the question still on his mind. “I like to live dangerously,” Gavin commented with a smirk as he squeezed the motorcycle’s accelerator. Ray’s arms were secure around his waist, tightening just slightly at the sudden, rapid increase in speed. He could just barely hear a mutter of agreement from the Puerto Rican behind him. They blew through the red light, weaving slightly to dodge cars in the intersection, moving together with the bike as if all three were one cohesive unit.

And that was when he felt Ray’s hands move lower, nimble fingers on the button of his jeans. Gavin dared a glance down, his attention shooting back in front of him with a little gasp as someone beeped. Again they wove their way through traffic, dodging cars and taking the on ramp to the highway. Lightening pressure as his jeans were undone, the slow drag of his zipper being pulled down before the sudden coolness of Ray’s hand against the skin of his lower stomach. He tried to breathe evenly and focus on the road, every part of him tensed.

Ray’s hand moved lower, inside his jeans, feeling his cock (already starting to get hard, just the _thought_ of his partner in crime doing this sort of thing was amazing) through his briefs, squeezing lightly. Gavin let out a small noise that was somewhere between pleasure and complaint, rocking his hips against the bike and wobbling slightly, nearly sending them into the side of an RV.

“Focus, babe.” The Puerto Rican muttered in his ear, kissing his exposed jawline lightly, moving his hand against him more forcefully. He pulled away much too quickly and Gavin let out a hiss of need, the sound turning high-pitched when Ray’s hand was back, this time inside his briefs as well as his jeans. Sparks burst up Gavin’s spine at the feeling of the other man’s hand slowly dragging along his length, stroking him firmly but so teasingly slowly that he was tempted to crash the bike just to make a point.

“Ray…” He gasped out, squeezing the throttle a bit more, both of them jerking in their seats when the bike jumped under them, darting forward on the highway and weaving between cars.

“Eyes on the road.” The younger man reminded him, increasing the speed of his hand just a fraction, pausing to thumb the sensitive head of Gavin’s cock when they changed lanes. He smeared as much precum as he could gather along the hard length of his cock, lubricating him just enough to make sliding his hand up and down an easy task. Ray squeezed every time he reached the base of Gavin’s cock, thumbed the head every time his hand moved up. His other arm was secured around Gavin’s waist, feeling his rapid breathing. He couldn’t hear Gavin over the wind in his ears, but he could see his lips moving, could guess that the other man was whispering his name again and again.

One of Gavin’s hands left the handlebars, the bike again increasing in speed and wobbling slightly as he reached down and set his hand over Ray’s, grinding his erection against the heel of his hand. The Puerto Rican pulled away, swatting at his hand lightly. “Focus on the road before you get us both killed.” He demanded, giving a punishing nip to Gavin’s jaw and forcing his hand back to the handlebar. He gripped his cock again, working him quickly, squeezing and stroking with less rhythm and more intuition, the way he got himself off.

Even over the wind roaring in his ears, Ray heard Gavin moan as his whole body locked and trembled, looked over the sandy-haired man’s shoulder and saw semen spurt from his cock and onto his lower stomach, staining his shirt. He squeezed again, snickering as a second shot of cum left the head of Gavin’s cock, landing on the thigh of his jeans and darkening the material. He pulled his hand away when he was sure the other man was done, carefully tucking him back into his briefs and fixing his pants.

“Might wanna slow down before the cops see us.” Ray noted with a snicker, eyes on the speedometer, which hovered at right around 110. Gavin was still breathing heavily, but he eased his grip on the accelerator, slowly bringing the bike down to a more acceptable 80. When he slowed down even more and moved right, Ray looked up with a frown, just in time to see a sign for a rest area whiz by.

They pulled into the truck stop a few minutes later, Gavin killing the engine and quickly getting off the bike, pulling Ray along with him before the Puerto Rican even had a chance to remove his helmet. He grasped Ray’s wrists, shoving him against the outside wall of the building and pinning his hands above him, kissing him forcefully.

“Gonna fuck you in a truck stop bathroom for that one, Ray…” He muttered, biting down on his lip and smirking. “We can be a little late for this delivery.”

Ray squirmed, shivering and letting himself be pulled along, waiting until Gavin was fully faced away from him to grin. He mentally patted himself on the back for adjusting the other man’s watch; his plan for the extra half hour had come together perfectly.


End file.
